


you beat close to the heart

by mwohae



Category: Cravity (Band)
Genre: Bottom Koo Jungmo, Canon Compliant, Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, M/M, Missing Scene, Shower Sex, Top Seo Woobin, lapslock, this fic is not soft but woobin is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:00:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23887072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwohae/pseuds/mwohae
Summary: a moment to themselves.
Relationships: Koo Jungmo/Seo Woobin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 77





	you beat close to the heart

**Author's Note:**

> inspired 100% by [this](https://twitter.com/swbmini/status/1252996474570448899?s=20) video, which i have watched at least a million times, and also by my best friend who has been begging for mogubin for *checks watch* two weeks straight. as far as i know, this is the first explicit tagged fic in this fandom, so that's kind of a weird claim to fame. this is not edited at all, so please let me know if you catch any mistakes.
> 
> ~~~~  
> [stream 2u](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GmqfRBaJm6I)  
> 

there is, in no particular order: jungmo’s hand on his shoulder, heavier than it should be, hot through the fabric of his shirt; his hands on jungmo’s hips, fingers tight and needy but he can’t say what he needs to say; the memory of a fistful of hair, dragging jungmo down to the bed to kiss him hard and fast and desperate; the hot flash of lights all around them, the cameras rolling, trained steady on their faces and their movements, cataloguing their breath, their glances, their whispers; a constant murmur of noise in the background, sending his heart pumping fast and hard and anxious, hot blood in his veins—

and then time stops. they’re half hidden behind the other members, their eyes locked hard on each other, and they’re both thinking it, they’re both deep in the throes of it, they’re both _desperate_ for it. jungmo has the tiniest smile on his face, and minhee is watching them but he has no idea what’s going on. he couldn’t possibly, because he can’t see jungmo’s eyes, he can’t see the heat there, the tiny licks of fire, not quite white hot, but burning steady and unstoppable. 

woobin can feel the grin that spreads across his face and that’s unstoppable too. jungmo looks so _good_ today, all in white, his hair comma-styled around his forehead, his wide mouth accented in bright red, as hot as the atoms they must be splitting in the space between them. he shouldn’t let himself get caught up like that, but he can’t stop it. he needs to hold him, he needs to pull him close and feel his heart pound against his own, he needs to kiss him hot and heavy and unrelenting, he needs to take them both in his hand and squeeze until they both can’t breathe, he needs his fingers inside jungmo, his cock inside him, he needs—

“woobin-ssi,” the stylist says, and he jolts so hard he’s surprised he stays standing. from the corner of his eye, he sees jungmo turn and start talking to minhee, like nothing happened, too nonchalant, too unengaged—

“woobin-ssi,” the stylist repeats, exasperated, and he finally meets her eyes, smiling and trying not to feel like they’ve just been caught in the act. maybe the cameras weren’t on. maybe no one recognized what felt so fucking _obvious,_ like a white hot brand on his skin. maybe someone else did something distracting enough that no one will ever notice. 

he lets her fix his hair, his makeup, the collar of his shirt. he tries not to chew on his bottom lip, tries to stay focused, but jungmo is still right there. he’s only a few feet away, and woobin feels like if they look at each other again then the air in the room will simply explode, a hundred thousand blazing fragments that will either rip them apart or incinerate them. 

they shove them all together and then he’s _right_ there, pressed up against woobin’s front. these pants are too tight, woobin knows that jungmo can feel him, hard against the subtle curve of his hip. he won’t be able to hide it when they pull them for individual shoots, and they’ve still got the rest of the day of shooting and filming, the only thing he’ll be able to do is maybe escape to the single stall restroom in the dressing room, take himself in hand and hope that no one needs the restroom urgently, not that it’ll take long with the image of jungmo’s mouth, his eyes, his thin careful fingers—

those fingers twist in with his now, behind everyone’s backs, but when woobin chances a glance over, just with his eyes, jungmo isn’t looking. he still has the model look turned on, his face sorted into perfect expressions. woobin is staring now, his head openly turning more and more to look at him, and it takes a call from the camera director to draw his attention away, as he fills his lungs with the smallest, shakiest breath. 

where no one can see, he makes his move, fingers sliding into the back pocket of another pair of unnecessarily tight pants. jungmo gives no sign that he notices, except for a small tilt of his head. woobin’s eyes are pulled to the column of his neck, but he snaps his attention away quickly before he can get distracted again. 

he feels frantic for the rest of the day, staying away from the cameras as much as he can. his hard-on is less noticeable than he thought, and luckily it fades eventually with jungmo out of the room, called for individual shooting first, but every time, _every_ time, woobin catches a glance of him he feels his cock stir again, hot and embarrassing and impossible to ignore. he hangs by himself until a staff member forces a camera into his hands and then he’s grateful for the company to keep him distracted. 

the van ride back to the dorms is loud and crazy but minhee and wonjin have commandeered jungmo and squashed him between them in the front row, so woobin can at least lay his head against the seat back and try not to think so much. it doesn’t work — as soon as his eyes close he’s thinking about jungmo, he’s thinking about his perfect face and his big wide mouth and his slender fingers wrapped around woobin’s cock, taking him so deep, tongue rough against the head of him, his other hand on woobin’s hip and everything about him so gentle because he likes to take his time when he has woobin in his mouth, he could probably do it for hours, so careful but so needy, so—

he pulls his backpack a little further up his lap and bites his lip. when they finally get back to the dorms, he climbs out with it still in his hand, hugging it awkwardly to his stomach and praying no one asks him why he’s acting so weird. they don’t — they’re all too tired or hyper, and the tired ones have nothing to say and the hyper ones attach to each other and feed off the rebounding energy. they’ll stay up too late, chattering through the night when they should be taking advantage of what chance for sleep they do have.

woobin lets everyone else shower first — except jungmo, who makes himself absent from the living room where they’ve all gathered. when woobin finally makes it into the bathroom, he leaves the door unlocked while he undresses and tries to ignore the pink tinge to his skin and the tiny little spots of wetness in his boxer briefs. 

he’s scrubbing the makeup from his skin when the door opens, and even though he was waiting for it, he still stiffens and tenses until he looks up and sees jungmo stepping in and locking the door behind him. 

“finally,” woobin mumbles, and then jungmo grabs him by the shoulder and they crash together. 

jungmo’s lips are as soft as ever, but his mouth is hard against woobin’s, drawing him in desperate and needy, with tiny little noises and little gasps for air that allow woobin into his mouth. he lets woobin back him against the wall, a knee between his legs as they rock against each other desperately. woobin is hard again within moments, and he can feel jungmo straining back against him through his pajama pants as he grinds on woobin’s thigh. 

the break apart, gasping. jungmo’s head tilts back against the wall and woobin attacks his pretty neck with little kisses and gentle nips, nothing heavy enough to mark him but forceful enough to make him moan quietly.

jungmo is never loud, but woobin is too paranoid to do this without the water running just in case, so he leaves a last long kiss to jungmo’s throat and then pulls away to turn the shower on. jungmo flips down the lid on the toilet and pushes woobin down onto it when he’s done so he can climb half into woobin’s lap and go back to kissing him. 

it feels like hours before woobin surfaces, jungmo’s fingers in his hair and his knee braced between woobin’s thighs. the air is hot now, and not just because they’re pressed so close together, sweaty and needy — the steam in the air from the shower making everything a little more urgent, leaving them gasping for breath a little harder. 

“you’re not naked,” woobin grumbles, catching the hem of jungmo’s shirt with his fingertips. 

“busy,” jungmo whispers. he tips woobin’s head back up to kiss him again, soft but lingering. 

woobin pushes him away, dropping his hands to jungmo’s hips so he can slide his thumbs under the waistband of his sweatpants and shove them down over his ass. jungmo pulls back and shucks his shirt over his head and into a corner, and woobin leans in to take one nipple so carefully between his teeth. jungmo moans, leaning in over him while woobin digs his fingers into his ass and massages, slow and heavy. 

“we’re wasting time,” jungmo breathes, and his hips buck as woobin sucks at his nipple. 

“you were the one who didn’t want to get naked,” woobin murmurs, blowing soft and warm over his nipple. 

“shut up,” jungmo whispers. he tugs at woobin’s hair. “i’ve been waiting _all_ day.”

he knew it, but it still puts a little thrill through woobin’s stomach to know he wasn’t alone, to know jungmo was just as desperate, just as consumed with the thought of it, half hard in his pants all day like woobin was. 

“so finish getting naked and let’s do it,” woobin says. 

jungmo huffs, a pout across his beautiful mouth, and he leans down to kiss him one more time, like he can’t get enough, before he backs off completely. “i need to take my makeup off,” he says. he gives woobin another kiss, and then regretfully turns away. 

woobin climbs into the shower then, letting the water wet his hair and run down his face as he strokes himself the rest of the way to hardness. it would be too easy to get carried away, though, so he forces himself to just stand under the running water and let it massage some of the tension and tiredness out of his shoulders and back while he waits. 

jungmo doesn’t take long, probably too eager to put himself through a whole skincare routine right now, especially with what’s to come. he gives woobin almost no time to process it when he climbs in, pushing him suddenly and abruptly against the wall, then sinking to his knees and swallowing woobin down before he’s even really realized what’s happening. suddenly there’s warm and wet all around him, right down to the base — but just for a second, before jungmo pulls off and licks up to his tip and then back down with broad, heavy strokes of his tongue. woobin groans, fingers in jungmo’s hair without meaning to, and jungmo responds by taking him again, his tongue pressed right along the underside of woobin’s cock all the way down. 

jungmo could spend hours like this, woobin knows, because he’s tried before. he’s pushed woobin down onto the edge of the bed and gotten on his knees, he’s sprawled over woobin’s legs, he’s taken woobin deep, with his pretty, red lips stretched around woobin’s cock, taken woobin deeper than he should be able to, his nose against woobin’s skin, his tongue at the base of him—

woobin moans as jungmo pops off again, with a quiet little noise, a trail of spit hanging disgustingly from his lips to the head of woobin’s cock, washed away by the shower before woobin can even really process that it’s there. jungmo takes the head of him back in, jacking him with his free hand while he suckles there, swirls his tongue so slow and careful even as his hand is frantic and tight. 

woobin lets his head hit the tile behind him, eyes closed. he tugs at jungmo’s hair, just a little, and jungmo moans at him in response, the vibration shooting straight to woobin’s stomach. jungmo knows him too well, knows just where to direct his attention, just how to drift his teeth so carefully over the ridge of woobin’s head, thumb caressing the vein. finally, because he knows woobin is waiting for it, he lets go with both hands and slides them up woobin’s thighs to his hips. his lips drag over woobin’s skin, pulling another moan deep from his chest, until woobin is all the way inside him, hot and velvety and wet and sucking, and then he lets his jaw go a little slack — silent permission. 

woobin rocks slowly, mindful even though jungmo rarely chokes. it’s perfect, jungmo silent and willing and open, taking woobin into the deepest parts of him, can probably taste the slowly leaking precum on the back of his tongue, rolling down his throat. woobin can’t look down, because he knows the sight will be too much, jungmo’s eyes closed and his mouth stretched impossibly around woobin’s girth, his lips and chin slick with spit and precum and mist from the shower. 

woobin’s hips stutter a little too quick just at the thought, but jungmo takes it expertly, with just a quiet moan of encouragement, barely audible over the hot, pounding water. woobin repeats the movement, deeper, a little faster, and there’s a noise that could maybe be just the tiniest little choke, but jungmo makes no move to stop him, so woobin fucks into him again, and oh god, it’s perfect. it’s unreal, impossible, and perfect, the way jungmo takes him. woobin fucks his mouth and his throat over and over, his mind calling up unbidden memories of jungmo’s head tipped back over the edge of a bed, woobin so deep in him he can see—

his hips jerk a little harder, and jungmo definitely choked on that one a little, but his fingers are still tight on woobin’s hips, he’s still drawing him deeper. woobin lets go a little, lets his shoulders sag back against the wall and fucks into jungmo a little rougher, trying not to enjoy jungmo’s so carefully muffled noises, trying not to think about the hand that slides down woobin’s leg and where that’s going, trying not to think about jungmo jerking himself off, getting off on woobin so deep in his throat. he tries not to think about how much jungmo loves to have his mouth full and stretched and taken. he can’t think about it, because his knees will go weak, and he needs to stay upright, he can’t let himself lose it. 

it’s harder for jungmo to regulate his hips with just one hand, and his thrusts are coming sloppier and messier, and jungmo is gagging a little more often. woobin still doesn’t dare glance down, no matter how badly he wants to see how absolutely disgusting and fucked out jungmo has let himself get. on one thrust, jungmo chokes again, and he must really have not been prepared for that one, because his teeth make just the briefest contact with woobin’s cock, and the sudden shock shoots up into woobin’s stomach and then down to his knees and then—

well, down, when his right knee buckles suddenly and jungmo (so careful, so composed and quiet) makes a little noise of shock and so luckily pulls off, just as woobin’s trying to recenter his weight, only to overbalance just a fraction too much. his foot slips, his ankle twists just enough to hurt, and in an incomprehensible jumble of moments he goes from upright to a thudding bang to the back of his head which, by the grace of some more powerful force than him, not only doesn’t knock him out, it really doesn’t even hurt that much.

he does, however, finally open his eyes, and he finds jungmo staring at him, their legs twisted together awkwardly. he’s breathing heavy and he looks a little shocked, and his mouth and chin look _exactly_ as horrible as woobin pictured, but he only has a moment to consider that before jungmo’s mouth finally snaps shut and his lips twist a little like he’s fighting something, and then he bursts out laughing. 

woobin takes a second to catch his breath before the embarrassment and the stupidity of the moment catch up with him, and then he’s laughing too, quiet and low and more than a little bashful. jungmo is practically hiccuping with his laughter, but part of that might be the breathlessness he’s still battling. and he’s still laughing nearly uncontrollably when he sits forward and crawls into woobin’s lap and says, “you are so _stupid._ ”

“it’s your fault,” woobin grumbles, but he doesn’t have a chance to protest further because jungmo kisses him then, wet and sloppy and disgusting. woobin can taste himself on jungmo’s tongue but can’t be bothered to be grossed out. they make out slow and heady and intense and _stupid,_ their cocks dragging against each other with every movement of their bodies. 

jungmo finally breaks away, still trying to catch his breath. “are you okay?” he asks, his fingers probing the back of woobin’s head. “that was pretty loud.”

“i’m fine,” woobin says. he loops his arms around jungmo’s waist and pulls him closer. “more sound than impact, i think.”

“hm.” jungmo drops his hand and wraps his arms around woobin’s neck. “probably from all that empty space in there.”

woobin tries to make his pout as cute as possible, and probably fails because jungmo just ignores it and kisses him again. god, he wishes they had _time._ he wishes he had hours to keep jungmo like this, to push him back and spread him out and take their time, take care of each other. he wishes they had a room to themselves and a big, soft bed and a pile of pillows for jungmo to throw his head back into when woobin presses inside him. he wishes he had hours and hours to fuck him slow and kiss him hard and longing and lingering; enough time for jungmo to flip them and ride him lazy just like he likes it, like he _loves_ it; enough time for woobin to pull out and jungmo to lie on his stomach and woobin to fuck into him from behind, jungmo’s back arched while woobin coaxes tiny little moans from between his lips; enough time for them to switch back to missionary so woobin can see jungmo’s pretty face when it gets to be too much and he finally tips over the cliff and cums over woobin’s hand and his own stomach.

but there’s never enough time. they’ve got maybe ten more minutes before someone comes looking for them, and they’re lucky they don’t have someone breaking the door down already from the thump of woobin’s head against the tub. 

“should probably do this the right way,” he mumbles against jungmo’s lips. 

“not standing back up,” jungmo says back, even as he grabs woobin’s hands and drags them down to his ass. “so you can crack your head open for real. too lazy, anyway.”

woobin rolls his eyes and kisses his way up jungmo’s jaw, licking at the corner and smiling softly at the way his head falls back, only to drop the smile a moment later when something occurs to him. “... i left the lube under my bed,” he grumbles. 

“not an issue,” jungmo says. “you think i just laid in bed and waited?”

woobin’s brain stutters over that a little. “you— what?”

jungmo tugs his hand lower, over the swell of his ass, and woobin reaches further, dips his fingers in to find wetness that’s different from the water pouring down around them. there’s a _lot_ of it, and his mind immediately flies to thoughts of jungmo under the sheets in their empty bedroom, fingers between his spread legs, pushing and pressing and teasing until he could take them all. he walked in here fully clothed, probably dripping lube into his underwear from how slick he was with it. 

“oh,” woobin says. 

“don’t have much time,” jungmo says, climbing a little further into his lap until he can reach back and maneuver woobin’s cock to slide along the crack of his cheeks. 

woobin rearranges himself slowly, adjusting his legs and bending his knees, forcing the two of them together closer. “you’re crazy,” he whispers, still stuck on the idea of jungmo fingering himself open when anyone could have walked in at any time. 

“hasn’t scared you off yet, though,” jungmo tells him. he’s still reaching behind him, and woobin can feel his rim press against the head of his cock. “what does that say about you?”

“that i’m crazy _about_ you,” woobin says without thinking. 

jungmo pauses, glances up to meet his eyes, and there’s a little bit of vulnerability there. they’ve never said it before — they’ve never gone quite that far. woobin half wishes he could take that back, but he’s also glad he can’t, because he doesn’t think he could have ever said it except on impulse. 

“you’re so stupid,” jungmo breathes. slowly, he sinks down, and his eyes squeeze shut as woobin’s cock spreads him farther, deeper. he slides in so easy, jungmo opened up so much already and still wet and sticky with lube, but he’s still so tight. with a little gasp, he whispers, “you’re so big, i’m never gonna get used to this.”

woobin huffs a little, trying not to be embarrassed. jungmo mentions this often — he was a little more than intimidated the first time he saw woobin undress in a more intimate setting. he says he’s not used to it, but he also had all of that swallowed down his throat a minute or two ago, so woobin knows better than to take any of it at face value. it’s still flattering, though. 

he’s not quite distracted enough by the size comment to miss the fact that jungmo didn’t really acknowledge what woobin just said. it was a stupid admission anyway, but he can’t pretend it doesn’t sting a little. maybe he shouldn’t have hoped. maybe he shouldn’t have let himself get carried away with the thought of it, with the little thrill of being— well. 

but now isn’t the time to be unpacking that, especially with jungmo sinking lower and lower onto his cock, squeezing him tight and keeping his mouth pressed into a firm line so he won’t let out any noise. his face shows everything, though — sometimes woobin swears it’s like it’s his first time all over again, from the look on his face as woobin splits him open. he’s panting by the time he’s seated fully, but woobin doesn’t give him time to recover, just tightens his arms around jungmo’s waist a little more and rocks up into him. 

a tiny little noise worms its way between jungmo’s lips, and he rocks back against woobin’s movements, until they have a rhythm set. woobin loses himself in it a little — the feeling of jungmo around him, warm and wet and so fucking tight, jungmo’s cock slapping against woobin’s stomach with every movement, the water pounding hot and rhythmic down onto them, the obscene yet hypnotizing noise of skin against skin. jungmo leans into him, arms around his neck, and buries his face in woobin’s wet hair. woobin tips his head up to lick at jungmo’s collarbones, biting so gently, and jungmo muffles the smallest moans into his hair. 

“rubi,” he breathes, and it fills woobin’s stomach with butterflies and lightning. 

“jungmo,” he whispers back. he fucks up into him, and jungmo moans so softly. 

“rubi,” he says, a little louder. 

“jungmo,” woobin whispers again, because he can’t make his voice go any louder. “please, let me hear—“

jungmo groans and tugs at woobin’s hair. “rubi,” he breathes, as he sinks back onto his cock. “don’t be stupid.”

woobin groans against jungmo’s chest. “i know, i just—“

jungmo ducks his head and kisses the shell of his ear. “rubi,” he whispers, right there.

woobin’s whole body shudders, tremors down his spine. jungmo tells him all the time what woobin’s voice does to him, but it’s strange to have that turned back on him. “jungmo,” he mumbles back. 

“so big, rubi,” jungmo tells him, so quiet. “you feel so good, nothing feels like you.”

it’s stupid, meaningless praise, but woobin can’t help puffing you a little from it, fucking into him a little rougher, and jungmo moans right in his ear, and even as quiet as it is, it makes woobin tighten his arms fully around jungmo, pulling him out of his lap to lean all the way into woobin. his cock is trapped between them now, and woobin has better leverage to fuck into him, hard and fast as he can, and with jungmo’s mouth right next to his ear he can hear every tiny little noise that slips out, every quiet whine and muffled moan and hitch of his breath. 

“rubi,” he gasps. “oh, god, rubi, woobinnie—“

woobin— growls, that’s the only word for it, and digs his teeth into jungmo’s collarbone. jungmo cries out so quiet and strained right into woobin’s ear. woobin can feel jungmo leaking onto his stomach, woobin’s thrusts jolting him just enough to get some friction to his poor, ignored cock. woobin would love to worm a hand in between them and jerk him off, but he doesn’t want to let go, not even for a second. 

he’s so close. jungmo is so tight and wet and hot and perfect, woobin won’t last much longer, not after the treatment jungmo’s throat gave him — but judging by everything he can feel leaking into his stomach and the multitude of moans and whines in his ear right now, jungmo won’t last long past him. 

“jungmo,” he whispers again, just because he can. he digs his fingers into jungmo’s ass and fucks into him _hard,_ with all the strength and leverage he can muster behind it. 

jungmo tenses and tightens and moans. “rubi, i—“

“‘m gonna cum,” woobin rasps, and when jungmo moans again he knows it’s more because of woobin’s voice than his cock. “lemme— inside, jungmo-yah—“

“ah!” jungmo jolts against him, whining. “yeah, yes, yeah, hurry up, rubi—“

he squeezes tight again, trying to force it faster, and woobin pulls jungmo’s hips down against him as hard as he can. “woobin,” jungmo whines. “fuck, rubi, woobinnie, fuck, i love you too—“

and biology doesn’t work like this, except that it does, because the second he hears those words, woobin’s whole body goes tight and his orgasm hits him like a truck, like a rolling thunderclap, like a tidal wave. he nearly blacks out for a second, but jungmo’s voice in his ear grounds him. woobin feels jungmo’s cock twitch hard in between them, and with another quiet cry, he cums too, shooting hot and sticky onto woobin’s chest. 

woobin fucks him through both their orgasms, until every thrust hurts, until they’re both whining with the movement and jungmo starts babbling in his ear, “stop, stop, rubi, stop,” and finally his hips slow and then stop. his whole body is shaking, and jungmo’s too.

it’s a miracle that the water’s still warm, but woobin barely processes that fact. he’s got jungmo warm and sticky and trembling in his lap, and woobin’s cock is softening and starting to slide free. he doesn’t want to think about what jungmo’s hole looks like right now, stretched wide and leaking cum. 

finally, chests still rising and falling a little heavy, they work woobin’s cock out of him fully, and jungmo sits back, his hands resting on woobin’s shoulders. the moment he looks into jungmo’s face, woobin is overcome with the need to kiss him — so he does. 

when they part again, woobin leans their foreheads together, keeps his eyes closed, and murmurs, “you love me, too?”

he doesn’t need to look to know that jungmo’s ears are going red. “that’s— shut up. stupid rubi. you know i do.”

woobin laughs, a little high and a little stressed and mostly just whipped. “do i?”

“shut _up,_ ” jungmo whines, and kisses him again, hard and lingering. when he pulls away, he asks, “you haven’t figured it out from that?”

“i never even really said it,” woobin points out. “i wasn’t ready for that.”

“you basically said it,” jungmo grumbles. he pokes woobin hard in the chest. “don’t play games, i don’t have the energy left for this. you love me.”

“maybe,” woobin whispers, and pulls jungmo in for another kiss. the water is definitely starting to go lukewarm now — they’re running out of time. 

jungmo breaks the kiss off abruptly and glares at him. “say it.”

“say what?” woobin asks, batting his eyelashes as innocent as he can. he wraps his arms back around jungmo’s waist and pulls him in tight against him again. 

“ _i love you, jungmo,_ ” jungmo says, punctuated with another sharp jab to woobin’s chest. 

woobin musters his face into as serious an expression as he can. “i love you too, woobin,” he says. 

it’s probably a good thing they already fucked, he decides when he sees the expression on jungmo’s face — because he would have lost that permission now, for sure. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments & kudos make me happy ! or come talk to me on  twitter @hamhanori or curiouscat


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